Ginny's Perspective
by famousindafuture
Summary: No one ever understood the importance of Harry to me. When I was younger Fred and George used to play upon the title of brothers. But they hid behind the name Harry Potter


Ginny tells her tale of everything. This is how I see Ginny and how she has veiwed everything. Disclaimer; I wish I could be Ginny but no sadly she is a figment of JKR's imagination, as is everything in this story. I spilled my heart out to him and he walked away. I understand why, which makes it worse.

No one ever understood the importance of Harry to me. When I was younger Fred and George used to play upon the title of brothers. But they hid behind the name Harry Potter. The protected me from the unseen late at night by retelling me the brave tale. When mom and I would get in a row they would sneak me away from my emotional imprisonment and show me pictures, in the tree house, of my idol. At a young age, hope was instilled in me through a story and a person I had never met.

When I saw him for the first time, I saw what was obvious. He was more then the boy-who-lived. I knew at one glance this boy would change many lives, and I found the same hope through his image. He seemed lost, maybe it was the first time at a train station, or maybe it was the fact his whole life seemed to be starting anew, I knew he was real. I saw his weakness in his eyes, and at 10 years old, I set my sights for my future.

I always looked up to Ron. He always seemed annoyed by me, and searching for excuses to ditch or get rid of me. And I have always been a Weasley, so maybe that's why I wanted his approval of me so much. I held firmly unto him while he pushed me away, I'd grasp harder he's push harder. I was too stubborn to let him be, I needed him and he didn't see it. After a year he came back, told us of his tales with the one and only. While it seemed to any other I could be shoe in for the friendship of the celebrity, I knew Ron would keep him as far away from me. But that never stopped me.

He visited over the summer. I lost it over the summer. Around him I was shy, something no one has ever called me. But I heard that's how it goes with crushes. The first, the worst. I tried so hard to impress him, that he didn't even need Ron's guidance to avoid me. Then it happened.

School started. Some how, I didn't fit in. There were no friends to turn to, no acquaintances to build relationships with; even my own brothers were too immersed in their own lives to look out for me. I felt alone, and I hated it. I turned to the only thing that accepted me. I freely allowed him to enter my mind, abuse it, and throw me in the waste when he was done. At 11 I was under the control of someone that had killed almost everyone he targeted. And I survived.

As I laid in that dungeon, everything finally piecing together, I knew I was the damsel in distress. All I needed was him. I had read about him, he was my brother's friend, he should save me. And in the end, he did: But only because I was his best friend's sister.

The worst situation in my life, and on cue as I got ready to take my last breath he entered. My mind, while not getting enough oxygen, went into fairytale mode. He would save me and happily ever after. Then I passed out.

I awoke to him over me and I remember feeling all the guilt of putting this on him. I felt ashamed for being the pawn. As he calmed me, I finally got a good look at him. He was messy, bloody, sweaty, worried, and perfect. He was my prince, but as I discovered that day, I was nowhere near his Cinderella. He helped me up like a gentlemen but there wasn't any love in his touch, there wasn't any passion in his eyes, only worry. My happy ever after was shattered, along with my childhood.

After that day, the next year he avoided me. He didn't save me from my internal mind games, he didn't spare a glance. I was a task, because he was in charge of saving the world. That's why I cared for him.

I was invisible to him, so I lived my life. I grew up, and started to socialize with people. None of them were long lasting friends, but for the time period they were company. Harry was kind, while the other boys were immature and boyish, he carried himself like a man and you could tell he was grown up already. I always wanted to ease the fear, sorrow, confusion that reflected in those eyes, but I knew he didn't want me to. So I stayed in the shadow.

Hermione became my friend throughout it all. She stood by me, despite my brothers complaints. She gave me advice, she understood. Before a Yule Ball she told me not to give up, but to move on for the time being. And I did just that. I went to the ball with Neville, my feet were killing after words, but I learned what a kind person he was. Then at the end, while looking for something to soak my swelling toes I met Michael. He was nothing special, but he showed interest, and I played along.

Every summer my two friends, technically my brother's friends, would come to visit. When I saw Harry acting the way he did it scared me. Not because of his temper, but because I understood it. Somehow without talking to him I understood the way his brain worked. And what scared me the most is I saw the worst side of him and still felt a need to have him in my life. I watched as he pushed everyone away, and his friends fled from him and I was disappointed. I knew that wasn't who he was, and I knew he was better then that. I watched each day go by, waiting for someone to snap him out of it, but no one understood like I did. I almost fled when I realized it was all on my shoulders.

One day, earlier then planned I laid it all on the table. He looked up at me with recognition in his eyes. He finally understood that I understood HIM. I brought him out of his pity party and into reality; reality that I existed and he wasn't alone.

That was the start of a friendship in sorts. I was more then his groupie, and he was more then my hero. I watched as he dated Cho, and I carried on with my own dating life. It was torture. But I held up my friend responsibilities. I backed him up, I helped him out, I lifted his spirits. By the end of the year, after all the exes and challenges, he knew who I really was.

I dated Dean, despite my brother's sudden urge of protecting me and beating Dean to a pulp. But he wasn't Harry. I don't know when Harry's demeanor towards me changed but I knew something was different in that dark corridor. He seemed cold towards Dean, and when he was trying to stop Ron from physically harming me, his eyes seemed to be egging him to go on. After seeing that battle raging within him I knew, and things with Dean fell apart. Some say I was a slut, others say I moved on to quickly, what they didn't understand is that Dean saw me as a girlfriend, not as me, and I saw him as a replacement for Harry.

When I played as seeker for Harry I knew if we won everything would change. And as Harry walked into the portrait, his hair all askew and his eyes hopeful, I knew he was looking for ME. As always I could read his thoughts, and when his eyes locked with mine, and now I knew he could read mine. It was a two way radio, and I knew he understood the depth of my feelings. When his lips touched mine, and his tongue I might add, there was enough raw emotion to knock a untouched soul dead. It was right, the way our mouths meshed and tingles shot through. And I knew he would be the only one my mouth would touch after that. We broke apart, after at least several minutes and he looked everywhere but me. And when his eyes strayed downward he used the two way connection to convey his message. Out on the grounds we strayed, hand in hand. We spent most of the night talking, though both of our mouths were magnets being pulled to each other, and in the end we kissed until the day dawn broke through.

The next month was a dream, I saw him on levels no one could comprehend. And I really fell in love with him. When Dumbledore died I knew what was coming.

When he told me goodbye, the radio was still on. I understood how threatened he felt, and I understood his need to push me away. I didn't accept it, but I understood.

I guess that's what it all comes down to. Understanding. I tried to hold unto him, but he saw the dead body and saw it with my face. He had to do the right thing, and I could distract him from saving the world. In the end he could be forced to choose between the rest of the world and I, and this was his way of saying he would chose me. I wanted to stand beside him, the entire time, but at that time he needed to hear that I would wait.

I spilled my heart out and he just got up and walked away. I didn't cry in front of him, he never saw my tears, but he felt them in the back of his mind, I know he did. I know he understood, even without my declaration that I loved him. And while walking away I knew he loved me, even though he can't admit it to himself.

I'm his weakness.


End file.
